


Not His Bard

by witchee_writer



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Because that's where all the angst lies, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Geralt is an idiot, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27734968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchee_writer/pseuds/witchee_writer
Summary: Jaskier hadn't meant to get involved with another Witcher, but what else was he to do now that he had left Geralt behind? He still craved the adventure, the tales he could spin into song. Lambert provided that and so much more. He supposed it was only a matter of time before he ran into Geralt again, he just wondered if his heart could take it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 7
Kudos: 344
Collections: Geralt is Sorry, Just.... So cute...





	Not His Bard

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I love Geraskier and I love angst and this is where this came from. If I don't get some good, solid angst at the beginning of Season 2 then I will be sorely disappointed. 
> 
> I don't know if this is any good or not, but it was in my head so I had to get it out. I wrote it much too fast and edited it very little, so apologise. I figured I may as well post it, but please be kind. It's my first time writing either of them and I haven't watched the show since it first came out.

Jaskier stumbled down the mountain, his eyes burning, his throat tight. He refused to look back, refused to try and convince Geralt to let him stay. 

He wasn't that _pathetic_. 

The White Wolf had made himself perfectly clear, he didn't want Jaskier around, he had been nothing but a burden all these years. There was no friendship there, just pity and annoyance. Jaskier had fooled himself into thinking that Geralt cared. He had too, didn't he? After all these years, nearly two decades of following him around, surely Geralt would have said something if he had not. His words had often been harsh, but they had flowed off of Jaskier like water. They weren't the truth, Jaskier thought he knew him better then that. 

The tears threatened to fall, but Jaskier balled his fists up and ventured on, determinedly. He didn't know where he was going, it didn't matter. 

The harsh words, the cold nights, it had all been worth it to be with Geralt, to travel with him, entertain him, patch him up when he inevitably got himself hurt. Yes, Jaskier harbored feelings far stronger then just friendship but Geralt didn't need to know that. Jaskier was content enough with how things were (and if he still hoped for more on occasion, then that was his own fault). 

But he had been a fool. 

Geralt had done nothing more then "put up with him". Perhaps they were words said in anger and frustration, not necessarily because of Jaskier. But they had hurt all the same. Anger or not, they could only have been the truth. There was no point in hoping otherwise. Jaskier didn't want to hope for otherwise. He didn't want to hope that Geralt would chase him down the mountain, call him a fool and offer up some kind of peace offering without actually apologising. Because even if he were to do that, Jaskier wasn't sure he could just let it all go so easily. 

It hurt. His words had hurt, like a knife, carving his chest open wider and wider, hollowing him out. Geralt might not have called him a friend, but Jaskier had honestly, truly believed that they were. He had spent years at his side, _years_ and all it had amounted too was Geralt turning on him, blaming him. 

Jaskier would accept fault for a lot of things, but not this. 

Even if the Witcher did follow his trail (which he doubted) Jaskier desperately hoped not to see him again. Not now, not after everything he had said. Just imagining seeing him again hurt, hurt so much that Jaskier had to stop and lean against a tree, breathing heavily. No, he couldn't see Geralt, not now. 

He had made his position very clear and Jaskier refused to crawl back to him. Not this time, not again. He had done it enough, but no more. He was better then that, more then that. Jaskier had been with Geralt almost two decades and he hadn't even noticed that he hadn't aged a day. He was meant to be human (he wasn't), it was what Geralt knew of him. Surely if he cared enough to notice, he would have seen how odd it was that a human had barely changed in the near twenty years they had known each other. But that was the thing, Geralt didn't notice him. Jaskier was like an ant beneath his boot, he was nothing, he was a burden, an annoyance, nothing more, nothing less. 

If he never saw Geralt of Rivia again, Jaskier would be glad of it. 

(His heart disagreed).

* * *

He didn't know how, but Jaskier did manage to find an inn. He spent months wondering from town to town, turning in the opposite direction if he heard even the slightest whisper that Geralt was near. 

The thought of seeing him again set his nerves on fire, his heart racing. 

No, he couldn't see Geralt, he _wouldn't_. 

It wasn't the first time they had separated, gone different ways, but it was the first time that Jaskier actively tried to avoid him. He wondered if Geralt noticed, probably not. It felt strange, being on his own. It wasn't that he was unused to it, Jaskier had looked after himself well enough before Geralt, he could do it again but it was still strange. He had gotten used to the company, to not having to worry about protection. Perhaps that was why he had let himself travel with Lambert. 

It was foolish, really. He hadn't meant to get himself entwined with another Witcher. If he'd had his way, Jaskier would have had nothing to do with any Witchers. But Lambert had recognised him, sliding into the booth across from him in some dirty inn. If he noticed the scowls and glares the people sent his way, he didn't care about them. He supposed, Witchers were just used to that kind of thing. 

"You're Geralt's bard," said Lambert, eyes glinting. He took a messy sip of ale, and Jaskier tried not to flinch at his words. 

"I'm not Geralt's anything," Jaskier said, with far more venom then he had intended. 

Lambert raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. Oh, there was no doubt he had heard about him. If not from his brothers then from the countless stories that spread the continent. Jaskier really ought to have left, should have avoided associating with any other Witchers. He should have, but he didn't. Lambert said that, if he wanted, if he was looking for a travel companion, he was more then welcome to write songs about him instead. 

He, unlike Geralt, quite enjoyed the attention.

It was an offer he couldn't refuse. Jaskier's recent compositions had been far too morose and depressing to earn much coin off of. Perhaps a little excitement would be a good distraction. Lambert seemed skilled enough in finding a distraction, that much was certain. Even more reckless then Geralt had even been, but never so much that Jaskier was put in _too much_ danger. 

"I can't get you killed, bard," said Lambert, wiping off the copious amount of blood that covered him after a hunt. "Who else would tell such glorious stories of my feats in battle?" 

Jaskier rolled his eyes. 

He was so different from Geralt. Of course, there were similarities, they had trained the same, they were brothers but it was different. Lambert was far more talkative then Geralt, rougher and angrier too. Not as kind, but just as brave. A good man behind all the snarkiness. It was a welcome change, Jaskier found. He hardly ever thought of Geralt, anymore. It was even more welcome when Jaskier discovered that Lambert (unlike someone) was more inclined to invite Jaskier into his bed. 

There was no alcohol to blame it on, only Jaskier being rejected in a bar and Lambert humoring his flirtations. Geralt had never even considered such a thing, had never even looked at Jaskier twice of that he was sure. Lambert was different in that way too. He called his brother an idiot and had promptly pulled Jaskier into a bruising kiss. 

The stamina of Witchers truly was something to behold, but Jaskier knew it would be. 

"How Geralt never bedded you in the many years he has known you is beyond me," said Lambert, running a finger up his spine. Jaskier was boneless against him, but he was sure the Witcher could still feel his muscles stiffen, ever so slightly. Lambert chuckled, "His loss to not know how very talented his bard is." 

"Fuck off," Jaskier muttered. There was no point correcting him on whose bard he was, it was a conversation they'd had many times. He knew very well what Geralt had said, but it hadn't deterred him any. Apparently not even the fact they had just fucked was enough to deter him. 

"Don't be upset dear bard, we have many hours until the sun rises, shall I distract you?" 

Jaskier groaned, exhausted and aroused all at the same time as Lambert's fingers dipped lower. He supposed he could manage _one more time_ , though he had said that the last time too. 

As far as distractions went though, it was a bloody decent one. 

Perhaps traveling with Lambert had been a good idea, after all. 

* * *

"You know, Jaskier, you look quite young for your age," Lambert noted. He sat by the fire, sharpening his sword. Or at least, that was what Jaskier had thought. He had felt eyes on him, and Witcher eyes were heavier then most. Jaskier knew he looked young, that was what happened when you weren't _entirely_ human. 

Not that anyone knew that. 

Jaskier beamed, "Why thank you, dear," he said, brightly. "I've always said I had good genes. I have youth and dashing good looks abound!" 

It wasn't entirely a lie. He did get his youth and dashing good looks from his genes, the Elven race were known for being attractive and long-living after all. His mother was an Elf, though all these years Geralt hadn't noticed once that Jaskier had never seemed to age. He looked the very same as the day he had met him, as he would for many years to come. 

Lambert rolled his eyes, "Not what I meant, bard." 

"I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about." 

Lambert might have pushed it further had Jaskier not decided to use said dashing good looks to distract the Witcher. He might have been the youngest of his peers, but Lambert wasn't a complete idiot. The fact that he noticed at all said he wouldn't be able to fool him as easily as he had fooled Geralt. It wasn't that Jaskier was ashamed, it was just he quite liked being seen as human. It was easy, simple, it required no explanations. 

* * *

Jaskier supposed it was only a matter of time before they ran into Geralt. 

He had done his best to avoid it. The hurt had never really gone away, just faded into the background with the rest. Jaskier didn't want to drag it back up again, didn't want to feel miserable and betrayed. The Witcher had made his choice and Jaskier was happy enough with Lambert. 

He traveled, he went on adventures, he sang, he ate, he fucked. It was a good life, an easy life. Geralt would just complicate matters. As far as Jaskier was concerned, the White Wolf was nothing more then the past. He refused Lambert's invites to Kaer Morhen when the winter months settled in (which Geralt had never, in all the years he had known him, done). The first time he had asked, Jaskier had almost fallen from his horse in shock. It wasn't enough to make him accept. He was curious, of course he was. Year after year Geralt left for his mountain home, the place he had trained and been raised. Jaskier was so very tempted, but his heart held him back. He knew who would be there, he couldn't stand the thought of an entire winter trapped on a mountain with Lambert, Geralt and the rest of their brothers. 

It would be a nightmare. 

Lambert never questioned it, just shrugged and told him where to meet him when winter was done (Geralt had never done that either). It wasn't as if they were in a relationship, he and Lambert. It was just an understanding, really. Jaskier enjoyed the adventures, Lambert enjoyed songs being written about him and they slept with plenty of others along the way. It was a friendship with benefits, Jaskier liked to say. 

If Geralt knew about the arrangement, Lambert didn't say anything. Jaskier suspected that he had no inclination to involve his "brother" and kept it quiet. 

It was never going to last forever though. 

Jaskier couldn't run forever, fate was not that kind. 

Not even Lambert with his Witcher senses had noticed the group of three enter their inn: Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri. Jaskier tried not to let his jealousy flare at their perfect little family. He couldn't find it in him to blame Lambert, not when he had been thoroughly distracted when the group arrived. Why would he have been paying attention to anything else when he had Jaskier and a pair of particularly busty twins (all three of whom were very naked when he arrived). No, Jaskier couldn't blame him. 

That didn't mean he liked it though. 

"Well, bard, you distracted me so much last night I didn't notice Geralt and his pack arrive," said Lambert, his voice rough. Jaskier scowled, the hurt still clawing at his chest. Lambert studied him, "They're likely at breakfast, shall we go and meet them or shall we try and fail to sneak out the back door?" 

"I'm sure they wouldn't notice," Jaskier muttered. 

Lambert scoffed "I am quite sure that they will and I don't feel like being skewered by Geralt for fucking his bard."

Jaskier shot him a dark look, "Not his bard," he snapped. Not that Lambert ever seemed to listen or care. It had been years, and somehow Lambert still looked at him the same way. Others didn't, but others didn't know as much as he did. Jaskier hated it. "And I don't think he'll care." 

Lambert rolled his eyes, "He will, Jaskier. I know we go the other way when we hear word of him, but he does listen for you. I think he's surprised you two haven't run into each other yet, I know that sorceress of his is-" 

"Yes, well, I don't see why that has to change today." 

"He probably knew we were here the moment he stepped through the door, if not before that. We could leave, but I have a feeling they'd follow." 

Jaskier groaned, "Fine, let's get this over with." He threw his shoulders back, plastered his most convincing smile on his face and waltzed into the dining room. They were easy to find, their little group. Geralt was ever so fond of brooding in a corner, and this time was no different. Lambert smirked over at his brother as golden eyes turned their way, narrowed. Ciri had her hood up, but even from a distance Jaskier could see the eyes that so resembled her mother. If nothing else, at least Geralt had finally accepted responsibility for his child surprise. And then there was Yennefer. It was no surprise that she was with them, beautiful and alluring as ever. She looked thoroughly amused at the sight of them, her purple eyes sparking. Jaskier tried not to look at Geralt. 

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," said Lambert, throwing himself into an empty seat. He winked at Ciri, before regarding Geralt. With supreme reluctance, Jaskier sat next to Lambert, pouring himself a glass of water so as to not look anywhere else. "Get in this morning, did we?" 

"Last night," said Geralt, his voice low and dangerous. 

"You didn't notice?" asked Ciri, sweet and innocent. She tilted her head to the side, "Geralt did." 

Lambert cleared his throat, "Yes, well, I confess my attention was elsewhere." 

Jaskier looked up then, meeting Geralt's eyes with a nervous laugh. "Whoops?" 

"Look at you, bard," said Yennefer, a smirk on her lips. "And here I was worried we hadn't run into you in all these years! I see I needn't have been."

"Your loss sorceress, I am extremely good in bed," said Lambert. Something shifted in the air, enough to have Lambert's mask shift for a moment. He met Geralt's gaze without a fear, "Don't look at me like that, brother. You made no mention of your bard to us so nor did I." 

"I'm not that helpless," said Jaskier, annoyed. "I was doing just fine on my own, but at least with Lambert I can get good material for my songs. I'd wager they've even been more successful then my old stuff." That was a lie, and they all knew it. "And I'm no one's bard but my own." He got to his feet, brushing off his clothes of dust that wasn't there. "It was good seeing you all, but we were on our way out." 

Lambert stared at him for a moment, before rising to his feet. "Indeed, the Path awaits," he said. 

"You're leaving?" said Ciri, with a frown. Her eyes looked between them all, flickering between Jaskier and Geralt. "Yen said that if we ran into you you'd stay, you would sing songs and tell stories!" Yennefer did not deny it, her eyes fixed on him, cool and unreadable. "She said you would be much better at it then she was. We were going to find you!" Jaskier looked at Geralt, but as ever, he remained silent. 

"Well, little one. I'm afraid my days traveling with Geralt are done. After all he made his feelings very clear-"

Geralt sighed, "Jaskier-" 

"Geralt fucked up," Yennefer interrupted. "He's good at that as you and I both know, bard. He knows that, more then ever since we never ran into you. But are you are really going to just avoid him forever? Could you?" She tilted her head to the side. "Perhaps not forever, but much longer then a human. Right, Jaskier? I don't care how well some humans can age, you haven't aged a day. Strange, I never noticed before."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Jaskier, and turned to Lambert. "I'll get the horses ready." Jaskier glared at Geralt. " _Horses_ , Geralt, as in more then one. It's nice not to have to walk everywhere, funnily enough." 

"But-" started Ciri. 

Jaskier didn't stick around to hear the rest. She was a sweet child, but still just that, a child. It had been almost three years since the mountain, and Jaskier refused to go crawling back. What did Geralt expect? He would just cross paths with Jaskier again and everything would be normal? No. He didn't want him around so Jaskier wouldn't be around, it was as simple as that. He didn't know why Yennefer had told Ciri about him, he didn't want to know, it didn't matter. 

He heard the footsteps behind him and knew without looking that it would be Geralt. 

Lambert would have been louder, Lambert would have said something by now. Jaskier pointedly did not look behind him, "Go away," he muttered, stroking his horse with gentle hands. 

"Jaskier." 

The little voice in the back of his head, the hopeful one, the optimistic one, the deeply, annoyingly in love one, said that it meant something that Geralt of all people had followed him out, was, in his own way, entreating him to turn around and face him. But Jaskier refused to listen to that voice, he had listened to it for twenty years and look where it had gotten him. 

Geralt made a noise of annoyance, his heavy hand landing on his shoulder and turning him with force. Jaskier wasn't afraid (though most would have been), not for his physical being anyway. He folded his arms over his chest and looked away. 

"What more could you possibly have to say to me, Geralt? I'm trying to leave, can't you see? It's not my fault you're keeping me here, or maybe it is? Everything is, isn't it?" 

Geralt sighed, again. His golden eyes didn't look away from him, but Jaskier wished that they would. "I was wrong," he said, finally. "I was angry, but not at you. I did not expect you to take the words to heart, but I realised when it had been a year that you had." 

"Oh, I'm glad you realised so quickly," said Jaskier, sarcastically. He brushed the hand on his shoulder away, and Geralt's eyes flickered but that was the only sign he was affected. "Good to know you noticed I wasn't around." 

"Jaskier-" 

"No, Geralt. You said your piece now I will say mine. I am not a pet loyal to only one master, I am not a lost puppy trailing after you. What? Was I just supposed to drop everything and skip along at your side at first sight of you. Is that what everyone thinks? Even Lambert, that fucker, still calls me your bard and I'm not. I'm not your anything, I am just a bard. You have Yennefer and Ciri, you don't need me too, you made that very clear." 

"And I told you I was wrong," said Geralt. 

"Well, I don't believe you." 

"Oh, take pity on him Jaskier," said Yennefer, sauntering closer. Ciri hovered awkwardly nearby, as Lambert swung himself onto his horse and waited for Jaskier to make his decision. His face unreadable, he didn't know what he was thinking but Jaskier rarely did. He knew he wouldn't be hurt if Jaskier decided to leave, to travel with Geralt again. 

But Jaskier didn't want too. 

He wasn't ready to do that, not even slightly. 

"I'm sure you can take care of him just fine," said Jaskier, pulling himself into the saddle of his horse. He ignored the small frown that tugged at Geralt's lips, the genuine, honest surprise that crossed Yennefer's face. 

"You're not what I thought you were," she said, finally. Yennefer eyed him, "If this is a matter of..." She glanced at Geralt, briefly. "Competition, of jealousy, then I assure you I can do far better then Geralt." This time, it was Jaskier's turn to raise an eyebrow. Yennefer met his gaze without pause, straightening out her back and looking all but regal in front of the dirtied, old inn. "No idiot djinn wish can tie me down. Geralt and I have been bound together, but that does not have to mean one thing or another in particular. I have a kingdom awaiting me one day, bard. One I hope you will write many songs about." 

"Only if I am allowed in as your esteemed guest and there is plenty of alcohol to go around," said Jaskier, a genuine smile on his face. He had spent a long time resenting Yennefer but in his time alone, he realised there had been no point to it. She had not been the one that had forced him away, Geralt had done that all on his own. 

Yennefer rolled her eyes, "Nothing less for you, dear bard." 

"I look forward to it!" His mood sobered. "But that is not this day, and I already have a companion to write tales of." 

"This fool can do nothing to convince you otherwise?" 

Jaskier looked at Geralt, it must have been a trick of light that made him look guilty. Guilty and sad and regretful. By time Jaskier had blinked, that chiseled, handsome face was the same as it always was. Jaskier shook his head, "No. Not now, not yet." 

"I'm sorry," said Geralt, quietly. "For what I said, I'm sorry." 

That was almost enough, Jaskier could feel his heart _pining_. But he had to be strong, he told himself he would. "And as difficult as I'm sure that was for you, my dear, I'm afraid I must still be on my way." 

"I'm sure he'll look the very same when we stumble across him again," said Yennefer, pointedly. 

Jaskier smiled, mischievously. "Perhaps, perhaps not." 

"No hard feelings, brother," said Lambert, finally. "I'll look after your bard, don't you worry." Geralt frowned, but said nothing. Lambert turned to look at him, "Shall we get out of this shithole?" 

Jaskier smiled at him in relief. 

There was nothing more he would like to do than leave. At least for now, at least until he was ready. Jaskier was too hurt to go back to Geralt now, but it was a start. He felt like something had shifted, something good. He glanced behind him, at Ciri waving with a pout on her face, at Yennefer, at _Geralt_. 

His heart wanted to go back, but his head knew this was for the best. Not forever, he didn't quite feel like running anymore. But, just for a little while longer. 

"You're not going to write songs about me for much longer, are you?" said Lambert, knowingly. 

Jaskier glanced at him, "For a little while yet, I think." 

"I guess I better make the most of it. You want to bet whether the White Wolf tracks us down because his bard is taking too long?" 

"It's been years since I've been his bard-"

"Yes, yes, I know. It's rubbish, whatever." Lambert's eyes gleamed, "10 gold coins we run into him again by the end of the summer. Actually, better yet, if I win, you tell me all about your so-called good genes bard." Jaskier raised an eyebrow. "What can I say, I want to know what keeps you so young and handsome, Jas."

The bard rolled his eyes, "Deal, but if I win, I want a new set of clothes. A set of my own choosing." 

"That sounds more expensive then 10 gold coins."

Jaskier shrugged, "You made the conditions."

"Very well, you have a wager, bard." 

* * *

Geralt found them in the very last week of Summer. 

Jaskier swore, _loudly_ , as Lambert cackled. "You saved me a fortune, brother, thank you!" Geralt raised an eyebrow, but neither explained further. Jaskier had no choice but to tell Lambert everything, none of which seemed to surprise him. He just wanted to know, he just wanted to be the first person Jaskier told and he allowed it (he did lose the bet, after all). 

Yes, he wasn't aging. Yes, he wasn't human. Yes, he was an Elf. No, Geralt didn't know. Yes, Geralt was an idiot. 

Lambert still cackled, even as Jaskier swung his leg over his horse and guided her close to Roach. Even if he could be an obnoxious prick, he had been a good friend to him these past few years. Jaskier thought it would be strange, having to get used to the silence again. Jaskier reached out to slap Geralt on the arm, glaring at him furiously. 

"You owe me a new set of clothes, I was but days away, Geralt!" Jaskier complained. The hurt in his heart wasn't so noticeable now, had been soothed by the apology he had given, the sincerity of it. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow, "What for?" 

"For losing me a bet!" 

He shook his head, "You shouldn't bet with Witchers, they know how to keep their coin." 

Jaskier snorted, "Bullshit." 

"See you in the winter, Jaskier!" Lambert yelled after them, "I expect you'll finally make your way to Kaer Morhen this year, bard!" 

Jaskier rolled his eyes but turned back to wave at him regardless. He would miss him, he thought. It felt right, being back with Geralt. He felt whole again, even if there was still much left unsaid (there usually was with Geralt), but Jaskier would still miss the man that had been his companion during his worst days. Lambert had been a blessing, if a violent one. 

But he would see him again, this wasn't the end. Lambert winked, "You better bed him this time, Geralt or I certainly won't mind doing it again!" 

"For fuck's sake," muttered Jaskier. He glanced sideways, Geralt looked straight ahead but he could still see his tightened grip on the reins, his cold eyes. Lambert's cackles filled the forest and their ears. Jaskier almost felt the urge to blush, but he didn't. He cleared his throat, "So, where we off to, then? What great adventures do I have before me?" 

"Yen had business by the coast and Ciri went with her, we'll meet with them there." 

"We're going to the coast?" 

"Yes." 

"I've always wanted to go to the coast," said Jaskier, softly. 

Geralt looked at him then, his gaze pointed. "I know." 

Jaskier beamed, pulling his lute from his back. His heart and mind felt warm and light, happier then it had been in a long time. He couldn't help but show it, he couldn't help but sing about it. Geralt didn't seem to mind, if anything he seemed to relax. Not much, but just enough for Jaskier to notice. 

Just enough for his traitorous heart to sing as loudly as his mouth did. 

He didn't know what the future held, but if it was anything like this though, he would be happy. Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri, he could imagine their merry troupe traveling the land, fighting beasts, making coin. It would inspire many songs, songs that would spread across the country. Songs that would last for centuries to come, he hoped. 

Oh well, he had the time to find out. 

"Geralt, did I ever tell you I was half-Elf?" said Jaskier, lightly. He strummed his lute with particular enthusiasm.

Geralt turned to him, eyes narrowed. "No, you did not." 

"You know by taking me with you you'll have to put up with me for a great many more years then perhaps you intended?" 

"I can manage that." 

"You can't take it back, Witcher," warned Jaskier. 

"I don't intend too," said Geralt, seriously. "I won't make the same mistake again, Jaskier." He could feel his eyes on him and Jaskier glanced at him, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"Good, I should expect not." He packed his lute away, carefully. "Come, let's pick up the pace. The sooner we get to the coast the better!" 

Yes, the future certainly looked bright. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
